


Champion

by Eilera



Series: This Isn't a Procedural Cop Show [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Police, Angst, Depression, Drama, Fluff, Hallucinations, Love finds a way, M/M, Matt is Really Freaking Supportive, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Panic Attacks, Shatt, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Shiro (Voltron) Needs a Hug, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 15:35:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14897243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eilera/pseuds/Eilera
Summary: Shiro watched the crowd through heavy-lidded eyes. There were rows upon rows of them, all screaming and jeering, eyes alight with a feverish anticipation. It seemed like a larger group than usual today. Briefly, he wondered why, but the thought was gone before he could really contemplate it. It didn’t matter.Nothing mattered.





	Champion

**Author's Note:**

> Oh man, I'm so sorry. This is really depressing. But a happy ending, I promise. This fic is part of my Shatt Police AU series. I would recommend reading Fractured before reading this one, though it's not necessary. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! Special thanks to [DeathByStorm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathByStorm/works) for beta'ing as usual.

It was the hopelessness that was the hardest to fight.

Shiro could feel it sinking into his skin, settling in his bones like a disease, wrapping around his heart like a vice. It weighed him down, made it hard to focus.

He couldn’t bring himself to care.

The blinding lights of the cage didn’t matter.

_Just let go._

The shouts, “Vrepit Sa”, no longer filled him with dread.

_Just give up._

He felt detached from his own body, a spectator of his own life. How many battles had he already fought? How many more before the end?

_Just stop._

Shiro watched the crowd through heavy-lidded eyes. There were rows upon rows of them, all screaming and jeering, eyes alight with a feverish anticipation. It seemed like a larger group than usual today. Briefly, he wondered why, but the thought was gone before he could really contemplate it. It didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered.

He blinked slowly as one of the guards waved his hand close to Shiro’s face.

“High as kite.” The guard laughed, looking over at his colleague.

“Should make for a good show. When they’re hyped up on this crap they don’t even seem to feel pain. Makes the fights last longer.” The other guard grinned, grabbing Shiro’s arm and dragging him further in.

Shiro stumbled after them. His heart thumped slowly in his chest, completely at odds with the strange euphoria sweeping through his veins with each beat. Where were they going again? Something told him he should be nervous, scared even, but the drugs made it difficult to feel anything else.

Blearily, Shiro let his eyes sweep the room. It was dark, making it difficult to see just how far back the crowd went. In the center, a large cage was brightly illuminated with purple lights. The walls of it were at least fifteen feet high and went right up to the ceiling. It was bigger than your average boxing ring. He’d seen it filled with ledges and traps before but this time it looked like they hadn’t added anything to it.

He probably shouldn’t trust that.

The guards led him up to one side of the cage. While one unlocked the door, the other patted him genially on the back.

“I’ve got money riding on you, Champion. Don’t fail me now.”

The first guard shoved an axe into his sweaty hands before propelling him into the cage. The force of it was so strong Shiro stumbled onto his hands and knees, just barely managing to prevent himself from getting cut on his own weapon. He couldn’t focus like this. His limbs felt like lead, pulling him down, down…

He started to droop forward, but managed to stop himself. It was a struggle to stand up. He was hampered by the heavy axe and the crowd laughed uproariously at his bumbling attempts. Across from him he could see another man. He was leaning against his door, looking like he could hardly stay up. A sword was held loosely in his right hand.

A fellow captive.

Once, Shiro might have felt sympathy.

But now, he just felt empty.

This was his life now. One where each day was indistinguishable from night and the same constant purple light never changing. ~~~~

Eat.

Want.

Sleep.

Want.

Fight.

Reward.

Eat again.

_Want._

Sleep some more.

_Need._

Fight or die.

Dimly, Shiro could hear something being announced. His fingers wrapped around the chain link fence of the cage, arms shaking as he pulled himself up. If he won this fight, they’d give him more. He needed it. It consumed his thoughts.

Every day he thought of just…not fighting. He wouldn’t be the first to make that choice. It wasn’t an option many chose, in the end, but it had happened. Shiro had seen people frozen in fear who were killed without mercy. Others just stood there, praying to whatever god they thought would save them, eyes closed as the blade drew near. He’d never seen those pleas answered.

He’d given up on praying long ago. No one was listening.

In the end, the Galra had ways of controlling people. Shiro felt that control every day. The gnawing, incessant _need_ , clawing at his brain until he just couldn’t fight it anymore.

A loud bell trilled the start of the battle. Shiro took in his opponent through heavy-lidded eyes. His opponent’s eyes widened, the first sign of fear creeping onto his face like a dark eclipse. The man was young, probably close to Keith and Lance’s age. That thought sent a sharp pain through his chest.

What would they think if they saw him now?

What would they think of the monster he had become?

Shiro blinked, and the man suddenly transformed before his eyes. Gone was the young captive. In his place was Myzax, tall and menacing. The earlier fear distorted into a smug smirk. Shiro’s hand tightened around the handle of his axe. He took a step forward.

The crowd went _wild_.

Shiro could already feel sweat trickling down his face, stinging his eyes. He ignored it as he focused on running towards his opponent, towards _Myzax_. He wanted to take him _down_ for hurting Matt. He’d wipe that grin right off his ugly face.

They collided with a sharp clang. ~~as~~ Myzax swung his sword in a horizontal arc towards Shiro and he batted it away with his axe. Sparks flew as the metal scraped together. Shiro followed through with a knee to the gut and Myzax doubled over, nearly losing his grip on the sword.

Shiro grabbed Myzax by his hair and- hair? Myzax didn’t have hair. What-

With just that brief hesitation, Myzax twisted out of his grip. His sword came down towards Shiro’s head and he just barely blocked it in time. Myzax took that opportunity to kick him in the chest, sending Shiro back and into the wall of the cage. The chain link fence caused him to bounce right back and he used the extra momentum to propel himself into his opponent.

They crashed into each other in a heap of limbs. Shiro was lacking his usual grace, the drugs making it difficult to move the way he wanted to. At some point he lost his weak grip on his axe. The two of them tumbled to the floor, grappling. Myzax ended up above him, trying to get a grip on Shiro’s throat, his sword forgotten. Shiro could see the tiny pinpricks of his pupils, nearly swallowed up by his green irises.

Green? Myzax didn’t have green eyes.

Shiro grunted as Myzax punched him in the head, trying to weaken him. Struggling, Shiro managed to push him back enough that he could wrap his legs around Myzax’s neck. With a yell, he twisted to the side. He could hear the breath get knocked out of the other man as he crashed to the floor, but Shiro didn’t take a moment to savour it.

He wrapped his hands tightly around his enemy’s throat and squeezed.

Myzax clawed at his arms, legs kicking frantically as he struggled to knock Shiro off, but he was too weak. Shiro’s hands tightened. This was amazing. He could feel the euphoria threatening to burst out of his chest. He panted as he pressed down, arms shaking he was squeezing so hard. Sweat dripped off his nose to splatter on Myzax’s purpling face.

He was going to win. He would get his reward.

He would avenge Matt.

Myzax’s struggles weakened and his hands scrabbled uselessly against the floor. He twitched once more before falling still, his bulging eyes still open and unseeing as drool leaked from his mouth. Shiro panted heavily, refusing to let go. He had to make sure. He _had_ to.

Vaguely, he could hear people screaming. The sound reverberated through the cage so strongly he could feel the floor vibrating with it. Shiro looked up and it was like the room seemed to be moving in slow motion. The crowd looked angry. Probably upset that the fight had ended so quickly. It couldn’t have taken more than a few minutes, tops. He looked back down at Myzax only to find himself staring at the corpse of someone else. The young man he’d seen earlier. The-

“What?” Shiro mumbled, slowly leaning back. His fingers trembled. No. Nonononono. What was happening?

Nausea, strong and unrelenting welled up inside him. He leaned over, dry heaving on to the floor. He hadn’t had his meal yet, there wasn’t anything to throw up but bile. Shame swept across him like a cold blanket, sinking into his bones. What had he done? What had he become?

Hands grabbed him by his arms, yanking him up. He swayed, limbs weak and unresponsive. The same guard that had patted him on the back gave his partner an impressed smile.

“That was incredible! Even drugged up to his eyeballs he still took him down. I was expecting that fight to go a lot longer. The Champion is a _beast_.”

The words felt like were a physical blow. He could feel them sinking into his skin like a tattoo, never to be removed, branding him. In a daze, he didn’t try and fight the guards as they led him back to his cell, securing him inside with practiced ease. It was low and crowded, forcing him to curl his knees to his chest.

Matt would lose his mind here.

Shiro wrapped his arms around his stomach, fingernails digging into his own skin hard enough to bleed. He could already feel the drug starting to wear off, the adrenaline of the fight probably burned off most of the effects. The awful euphoria from before disappeared with it, leaving him cold and shaking.

He’d killed again. He usually tried not to, but the drugs…

Who was that man? Did he have a family? Was there anyone sitting around praying for him to come back home?

Shiro choked on a sob, dragging his knees up to his chest and resting his head on them. His chains jangled lightly with his trembling body, the only sound in the tiny chamber aside from his heavy breathing.

He wanted to go home.

He wanted Matt.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Matt startled awake as something smacked into his chest. Blearily, he could just make out Shiro’s arm in the dim moonlight streaming through the window. His brain was sluggish with the remnants of sleep, but it kicked into overdrive when he registered the quiet moans coming from his partner.

“Shiro?” He whispered, leaning over to turn on the bedside lamp. He took one look at Shiro’s sweat soaked hair and scrunched up face and was out of the bed, moving away from him. It turned out to be a good move as Shiro suddenly jolted up in the bed with a yell and punched right into the wall where Matt’s head had been with his prosthetic.

Shiro seemed to realize what he had done because he startled back hard enough that he fell off the bed. Matt couldn’t even pretend amusement over that, Shiro’s terrified eyes wiped that sentiment away before it even started.

“Shiro?” Matt murmured, taking a step towards him.

That turned out to be a mistake as Shiro scrambled backwards until his back hit the wall near the closet. He was panting heavily, and Matt could just make out his wide, unfocused eyes and trembling body in the poor light of the lamp.

Face grim, Matt took a few slow steps towards his friend and crouched down onto the balls of his feet within arm’s reach of Shiro. He rested his hands on his knees and waited.

Shiro didn’t like people touching him when he was in this state. He couldn’t control himself and was terrified he would hurt someone without meaning to. Matt could understand that, if the hole in the plaster was anything to go by.

Still, one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do was sit there and watch Shiro shake to pieces in front of him. He couldn’t do anything to help besides murmuring quiet reassurances and hope that he heard him. ~~~~

Gradually, Shiro’s panting slowed to a more normal range. He was still shaking uncontrollably, but his eyes were more focused and alert.

“M-matt,” He groaned, reaching out his left hand towards the brunette.

Matt needed no more encouragement than that. He crawled forward and settled himself between Shiro’s bent knees. He cupped Shiro’s face in both of his hands and pressed their foreheads together. “C’mon, cupcake, you know the drill,” he said quietly.

Shiro took in a shaky breath. “My name is Takashi Shirogane. I’m a detective with the 89th precinct.” He stuttered slowly, trembling fingers gripping onto Matt’s bicep.

“That’s right keep going,” Matt encouraged, forcing himself to breath deeply in and out so Shiro could match him.

“I was born in Kyoto, Japan. My favourite food is anything Hunk makes. My favourite colour is black.”

“Still not really a colour, love muffin, but that’s okay,” Matt teased, heart soaring as Shiro gave him a small smile in return. The trembling of his fingers subsided somewhat.

“I’m in love with Matthew Holt,” Shiro murmured, closing his eyes.

Matt smiled softly, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss against soft lips.

“I’m safe,” Shiro said as Matt pulled away.

“That you are.” Matt wrapped his arms around Shiro’s neck, pulling him in to a hug. Shiro clutched at the back of Matt’s pajama shirt. He could feel Shiro’s heartbeat against his chest, a little faster than normal but not the pounding terror it had probably been earlier.

They sat like that for awhile, Shiro focusing on his breathing and Matt humming a Disney tune. Matt didn’t know what memory had caused Shiro to have one of the worst attacks he’d seen since he’d first got back. Shiro had told him a little of his experiences in Galra captivity, but Matt was certain he had shielded him from the worst of it.

Matt wanted to know more so he could help, but now wasn’t the time to do it.

“Come back to bed?” He said quietly, leaning back so he could take in the taller man’s face.

Shiro frowned. “I punched the wall. I-I shouldn’t be sleeping with you.”

Matt plastered on his best pout. “Please, Shiro. I’ll sleep better knowing you’re with me.”

It was a cheap move, but Matt would rather rip out all his beautiful hair than make Shiro feel unwelcome in his own bed.

Shiro gave a huff that indicated he knew he was being played but couldn’t really fight it. Matt grinned, pulling his boyfriend to his feet and pushing him back towards the bed. It had long since gotten cold, but that didn’t matter. Matt wrapped his arms around Shiro’s waist, tangling their legs together and pressing a kiss onto the back of Shiro’s neck.

Shiro had been through so much and had come so far. Maybe Matt couldn’t stop him from reliving the horror, but he could be there when he woke up to remind him he was loved.

**Author's Note:**

> Supportive boyfriends are the best kind of boyfriends.
> 
> Please feel free to talk to me about Voltron on [Tumblr](http://eilera-chan.tumblr.com/). :)


End file.
